


Hope on the Horizon

by roseandheather



Category: The Yellow Handkerchief (2008)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-02 16:48:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17267774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseandheather/pseuds/roseandheather
Summary: Love, and what comes after.





	Hope on the Horizon

He doesn't know how he says goodbye to the kids. God knows he can't let go of May long enough to do it; he hugs Gordy, then Martine, with one arm while his other hand holds hers.

He makes them promise to call, to let him know they got home safe. He isn't counting on it, but the promise is enough.

Finally -  _finally_ he's alone with her, for the first time in six years. She's radiating happiness like light, so bright it near about hurts his eyes to look at, and she beams at him as she tugs him into the boat, as she presses him up against the wall.

Her hands are gentle as she runs them over his face. He nuzzles into her touch, weak with relief, weak with wanting. His own hands are tracing her face now, running over the beloved planes, the ridge of her cheekbones and the strong line of her jaw. She turns her head to kiss his palm, gentle, sweet, hopeful, and he hooks his other arm around her waist, drags her close.

"I love that face," he whispers, hoarse with longing. "God, I love that face."

He does. He loves her, every brave, stubborn, hurting, too-forgiving bit of her. Loves every dip in her skin, every flutter of her nostrils, every curve of her eyelashes and the stars in her eyes. Loves her more than he's ever loved anyone or anything on this Godforsaken planet, more than every hope or dream he's ever had.

"You won't leave me again." It's a demand as much as a plea, a bruise on her heart he can only hope to try and heal.

"I tried." He can't recognize his own voice. "I can't. I can't leave you, May, it hurts too goddamn bad. Hurts worse than any fucking thing."

She's laughing and crying at once, kissing whatever bit of him she can reach.

"You swear it, Brett Hanson. You swear it right now."

He swears it against her mouth, against her hair, against the soft skin of her temple and the arch of her cheek. She laughs again, heartbroken, delighted, hardly able to believe she's there.

The bedroom is bathed in yellow light.

She's the one who tumbles him to the bed in the end. Straddles him just like she did all those years ago, clutching at his hand in the exact same way.

"I wanna make a baby with you." His heart thuds in his chest, and he stares up at her, poleaxed. She's worrying at her lower lip, her eyes shining with hope. "I don't - it might not be possible, now. But I wanna try."

God, he wants it. Wants it more than he wants to breathe, to smoke, to fly.

"I was never mad at you, May." The words burst out of him before he even knows they're on his mind. "I was so fuckin' mad at me. So fuckin' mad at me for hurtin' you. I couldn't stand to see you hurt, couldn't stand to be the one to hurt you. I knew I'd only hurt you more if I stayed."

"You're a fuckin' idiot." But she's smiling again, rubbing her fingers along the side of his face.

"I know. I won't be again. I swear."

"Yeah, you will." She laughs, radiant and beautiful, stopping his breath, stealing his heart. "But that's okay. I'll forgive you."

"Well," he says. He  _wants_ so much his heart hurts. "Let's try and make a baby."

She whoops and he rolls her under him, looks down into her glowing eyes. "I love you, May. So damn much."

"I love you, too." She's peppering his face with kisses, wriggling under him, squirming with delight, and he loves her, loves her, loves her.

A few weeks later they're curled together, sleepy, sated. May takes his hand, the one draped over her waist, and slides it down to the flat of her belly.

His heart beats once, twice, three times before it clicks. "May?" he whispers, clutching her fingers tight. "May, really?"

"Really." She rolls over in his arms, looks him in the eyes. He wants to fold her in his arms, hide her away from the world, keep her safe from anything that could hurt her.

Then he remembers that he can, so he does.

"What do you think?"

"I think," he says, and for once in his goddamn life he knows just what to say. "I think I love you, and you love me. And I'm gonna give it a chance."

She hides her face in his chest and he strokes her hair, lets her cry. He knows this won't fix everything, knows he'll have to be better. Knows he can't keep making the same fucking mistakes, that he has to be the man she sees when she looks at him and not the mess he really is.

But now he also knows just how it feels to lose this. And knows, with everything in him, he can't bear to lose it again.

So he'll be better. For his girl, and for their baby.

For their future.

He slides his hand to her belly, and falls asleep with her fingers wrapped in his.

When he wakes again, the room is lit with yellow.

 

 


End file.
